


Aniara

by doctornemesis



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Accidental Bonding, Angst and Porn, Biting, Blood, Choking, Control, Control Issues, Cutting, Dominance, Dubious Consent, Feelings, First Time, Hair-pulling, Invasion of Privacy, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Rough Sex, Self-Harm, Submission, Telekinesis, Telepathy, The Force
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-05-15 15:06:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5790082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctornemesis/pseuds/doctornemesis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kylo took a step forward, broad mask and long robes looming over him, backed by an overwhelming, intangible presence that emitted in waves from Kylo's person wherever he seemed to go. “If it's control you need,” he said as he pressed a gloved thumb through the material of Hux's uniform into one of his fresh wounds, “I can offer it to you. I can offer you more than...whatever it is you presume this gives to you.” <br/>---</p>
<p>Hux has control issues. Kylo might just be the remedy for that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aniara

**Author's Note:**

> 1.) Please, I'm giving fair warning in both tags and here that if self-injuring is something you have a hard time with, please do not read this. I suffer from cutting, and this was fairly therapeutic, but I know that will not be the case for everyone!
> 
> 2.) 'Aniara' is taken from the Swedish poem of the same name! It's a tragedy set on a spaceship heading towards Mars. If you haven't read it or listened to the opera based off of it, I highly recommend it!
> 
> 3.) I do not own Star Wars as nor any of the characters here mentioned. 
> 
> 4.) Any and all mistakes are mine!
> 
> 5.) Enjoy!

Hux did nothing in life without intent, from every breath he took to the direct strides his long legs made, he was in charge from beginning to end. The words he spoke were prepared for every situation in which he predicted might come about, and they _did_ come about because Hux, with loose lids shut in seemingly eerie twilight dreaming, thought and planned for every scenario that might crop up. Control.  

  
  


It all came down to control for him, and he was filled with an unquenchable sense of dread and terror as the very thing he craved had slipped through his bare fingertips. The idea that he had failed ate at his core, at his _very_ _being_ , and he fought like a desperate, wounded animal to regain any semblance of it he could reach out for and grasp. His quarters were in complete and utter disarray, torn apart by an unseemly display of rage.

  
  


The razor; it gleamed bright against an otherwise dull desktop. Hux stared at it with an intense longing that burned bright and sat hot in the center of his chest. The desire for control was intoxicating and all consuming to him, he prayed to the steel set before him, thin between his fingertips, threatening to slice through delicate skin if he held this instrument even an increment off kilter. The dim light of his dim grey room reflected like a brilliant star against the pointed blade, and it sang to him a song of authority, of power and command...of _dominance_. Hux bowed his head as want turned into need, and his chest heaved as he fought to regain himself.

  
  


Hux unbuttoned his uniform top with deft, determined movements. No action wasted, no time to lose. He shivered as the cool, room temperature air caressed his bare upper torso, exposing wounds long hardened into straight lined scars placed in neat, proper patterns down along his ribs. Hux let his fingers dance over them, the right side of his body littered down past his jagged hip. The left side would have to take the brunt of his failures now, plain and unwritten past his second to last rib. Hux was running out of room, and it unnerved him; made a deep seated rage rise like bile in the back of his throat as he clenched his hand into a tight fist.

  
  


Blood pooled through his closed fingers like a grand old courtyard fountain as grassy green eyes looked on fondly at the pure essence running down a pale, sparsely freckled forearm. The self inflicted pain elicited a soft groan from tightly pursed lips as he took to it, molded it in a way that felt good–right. The pain placed things back into order; the trail of blood that spilled forth freeing him from all the disappointment, all the humiliation he felt. The blood righted every wrong committed by his unworthy hands. The satisfaction made him gasp, head tilted back as copper laid pennies across his tongue, searing his nostrils with an all familiar, comforting scent.

  
  


This was love and affection to him, the closest to intimacy he ever allowed. A blade and a designated spot to mark and tend to afterwards; the only care he ever paid to himself. No infection permitted, no droid to tend to him; it was all on him to make sure every wound healed in a proper fashion. The discipline and care needed; the control he would need in order to heal and move on, another goal accomplished. Order regained once more within his raging, disordered self.   

  
  


The line was thin but extensive, and satisfying as he drew it along his lower rib, feeling it slice deep and open wide along the curved bone; destroying the flesh along the protectors of his lungs, heart and other vital organs. The pain dizzied his thoughts, endorphin's lighting a match in his brain as blood began to pool over the edge of the wound before gushing over in a long river down his side, soiling his pale skin in long, thick streaks. A distorted painting of what it meant to feel. Hux reached for a white, damp wash cloth, not satisfied to drench the band of his slacks in blood. He drew it up slowly, hissing as it touched the flayed skin.

  
  


It hurt so deeply well that he was already craving for more, feeling alive and in charge.

  
  


Hux didn’t come to realize he was being spied on for quite sometime. In fact, he was all but absorbed by the bloodletting that he was blinded to all else around him. A rare thing for him; Hux was always on guard, on edge. The direct intrusion into his mind; however, did not go unnoticed. A reaching, near tangible something attempting to read him. Hux could accept many an unpleasant thing in his quest for power, but not that.

  
  


He fought back against the invasion, and won.  

  
  


Agitated, Hux completed his ministrations in due order, cleaning up afterward before settling down to bed. _‘How dare he,’_ he thought, contemplating the idea that Kylo would dare to breach his mind in such a fashion. Hux was a General, not an enemy to be interrogated. What disturbed Hux the most; however, was not the infringement itself, but the near intimacy of it. The gentleness in which Kylo had attempted to intrude upon his innermost thoughts and feelings.

  
  


After all, Kylo could be seen (and was) as a rival.

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning started with a tedious, but overall important meeting in which budget restraints were to be placed and where manpower could be reserved. General Hux felt the meeting would have sat better overall if Kylo wasn’t sat directly across from him, face covered and voice altered by a silly, mindless mask. Kylo wanted everything without revealing anything; there was no even exchange to be found with him, especially after their still too recent defeat at the hands of the dreaded Resistance. Hux felt drained and stiff; still on edge about the proceeding evening as Phasma gave her report on recent training exercises and field missions, successful or otherwise. Hux found himself, once more, wandering mentally when a loud slap echoed through the air, effectively cutting Phasma off mid-sentence, and serving to draw Hux's attention to the perpetrator of said action.

 

Kylo, of course, with a gloved hand against the counter top and no discernible feature to read or scold at.

 

Hux let out a deep breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, annoyed and slightly, _morbidly_ curious. Curious to see if Phasma would be successful in killing Kylo off this time, but also curious as to why the outburst had happened in the first place. Unfortunately for Hux, he didn't have to wait long for either to come to light, and both were dissatisfying to him in epic proportions. Phasma did not, in fact, kill Kylo, and Kylo's outburst had to do with Hux himself. _'Pay attention, General,'_ came a somewhat slightly amused voice in his head, and it was amused for the mere fact that Hux was loathed and troubled to hear it.

 

The meeting devolved to its ending soon after that. A noticeable tick was set in Hux's jaw as each subordinate filed out, not meeting his gaze as he met each one of them with nothing but misplaced scorn. “You,” he said, stepping directly into Kylo's path as the other was the last to file out. “I do not know what sense of entitlement you feel you have to invade my thoughts, and while I imagine it to be quite high, I will give you fair enough warning to stop trying _immediately_.”

 

Kylo took a step forward, broad mask and long robes looming over him, backed by an overwhelming, intangible presence that emitted in waves from Kylo's person wherever he seemed to go. “If it's _control_ you need,” he said as he pressed a gloved thumb through the material of Hux's uniform into one of his fresh wounds, “I can offer it to you. I can offer you more than... _whatever_ it is you presume this gives to you.”

 

Before he could stop himself, Hux let loose a loud, gasping breath from the sudden pain, surprise and sheer _arousal_ the action caused him. His body contorted itself in a manner he didn't know to be possible; his once steady heartbeat pounding wildly within its cage. Hux could feel the color in his cheeks bloody with humiliation as he balled his hand into a fist, intent to strike Kylo before thinking better of it. Instead, he stormed off, arms fixed by his sides. Control.

 

The desire to lay waste to clean flesh with a sharp object rose high in his belly again, but he knew the idea to be a disastrous one. However, knowing it to be a terrible idea did not quell the desire to hurt himself in some other way, shape or form. The sensation to vomit climbed its way ever rapidly up his throat; his stomach still sick and shocked by his own previous thoughts and actions. The pain, the pressure...the _pleasure_ ofit. The training room.

 

Control.

 

The simulations were never quite enough to make him feel engaged properly. The countless scenarios the computer could relay and multiply in less than a fraction of a second could never satisfy Hux's own mental complications and simulations, and so he focused solely on the physical exertion of it all. Run. Punch. Kick.

 

Hurt.

 

Hux did not believe in becoming lax with elevated positions of power. In fact, he believed that, the higher one climbed, the more one should train. If you were a leader, than no subordinate of yours should be able to outmaneuver you, even in remote, seldom displays of physical prowess. The burn his legs felt as he ran motivated him to move faster, beat his personal best; beat his demons back into submission by force, if he had to. Hux enjoyed running, enjoyed that even though he appeared to lack the ability to meditate properly, that he was able to outrun his own mind, so to speak.

 

Hux's arms and chest were tight, body thrumming from his own, voracious pacing. Push-ups, pull-ups, crunches, squats and dips only began his intended workout session. The art of calisthenics and the manipulation of using ones own body to train itself pleased Hux and his minimalist sensibilities. No grandeur necessary. All you needed was a body, and the desire to break it and watch it reform, over and over again.

 

The pain that blossomed and flared along his side only served to spur Hux on further. The anger he felt washing itself anew as he straightened his back, keeping him motivated as he landed one powerful punch after another, shifting weight from one foot to the other as he kept moving—kept hitting. The grace Hux hit with had been cultivated years before, balancing his body in one continuous, fluid motion. Punch, never push. Never give your opponent an opportunity to get back up.

 

Kylo's face encroaching upon his thoughts threw him off, causing him to overextend one of his hard hitting blows. Hux wrenched backwards, clutching his side as blood began to seep through the thin fabric of his white shirt. Infuriated, he began to hit his injured side repeatedly with a closed fist. An embarrassment; a damned blight on what it meant to be of the First Order. An excavated, dead star.

 

The near blistering heat of the water that washed over him brought a welcomed distraction, shoulders slumped forward as he tried to focus solely on the task of maintaining an even intake and outtake of breath. The pain he felt was no longer enjoyable. A sense of panic ran through him like a heavy dose shot through an already blown out vein; the possibility of passing out felt imminent. The bitter cold of the tile seeped through the skin of his back as he leaned against it for support; the sweat gathered at his brow mingling together with the fresh stream, burning the corners of his eyes. The driving force behind his wrath had dissipated.

 

A nervous breakdown would be a terrible look for him, he decided, but he felt one vastly approaching with limited means to putting a halt to it. A sense of calm pervaded; however, as his head lolled back, water still running down his naked form as his eyelids slipped loosely shut. Hux felt unrestrained, and unusually so as a stray hand of his began to wander across the flesh of his inner thigh. A soft whisper caressing the shell of his ear as a trembling moan filtered unguarded between his lips. Hux knew who it was, and hearkened a laugh to the otherwise empty space.

 

“Kylo, _Kylo_ ,” he called, resisting the urge to touch himself further. “Don't be such a coward about it.”

 

_'Am I truly being a coward about it?'_ Kylo's words spoke directly into Hux's ear as something, _someone_ stepped in between his legs, fingers bruising one of Hux's hips as teeth skimmed across his exposed throat. _'I'm here after all, aren't I? You can feel me, can't you?'_

 

Hux let out a low growl that hitched into a high-pitched whine as his arms were pinned above his head, neck and chest assaulted by a series of nips and bites. _'I'm showing you what I have to offer,'_ he mused, voice low and taunting to hear.

 

“And what is it that you can offer me?” Hux inquired, brow raised in a feat of defiance he did not feel he could back up.

 

Kylo's thumb ghosted along agitated wounds and old scars alike. _'The kind of pain that doesn't leave behind a permanent mark,'_ he breathed, and the catch in his throat was the first Hux had caught.

 

Kylo wanted this, needed it just as much, if not more so, than Hux did.

 

The two of them were powerless, irresponsible and unreasonable in their broken sense of self. The impetus of chaos colliding headlong with the maestro of constraint, composing a torrid symphony as the turbulent cloud around them collapsed, unifying a dense, hot core that would–given time–give rise to a hypergiant; the most massive, unstable and short-lived of all stars. A warmth spread throughout Hux's chest as he gave in, relinquishing what little resolve he had left at Kylo's feet.

 

“Tell me...what would you have me do?” he asked, unsure of himself and unsteady on his feet. The humiliation he felt at the question near killed him, but a demented kind of thrill danced down along his spine at the same moment, potential consequences unknown.

 

A low chuckle rumbled from within a broad chest that wasn't really there, a large hand stroking one of Hux's angled cheeks in a tantalizingly slow and tender motion. _'Come to me,'_ he said, securing Hux by the throat, giving it a small squeeze. _'I'll handle the rest.'_

 

* * *

 

 

Hux did as told, but made sure to do it at a searingly slow pace, arms crossed behind his back as he studied the empty hall he traversed with leisure. A small smirk curled at the corner of his mouth as the entrance to Kylo's quarters slid open well before he'd come to a complete stop. A small victory for the night to come, he mused, never looking back as he crossed the threshold.

 

“Keen for punishment, are we?” Kylo questioned, voice a low murmur as he brought Hux down to his knees in an instant, fingers threaded through thick tresses in an unforgiving grip, the color of spilled red wine.

 

Hux hissed, bottom lip tugged between his teeth as he stared up with docile, observant eyes. The mask and long robes were discarded, leaving Kylo exposed in black slacks that hung low across his hips. The sight made Hux's mouth run dry, mind feebly attempting to work.

 

“I think _keen_ might be too strong of a word,” he muttered, attempting not to turn into Kylo's touch.

 

Kylo grinned down at him, eyes wild and long hair untamed as he forced Hux back up to his feet. “Undress,” he commanded, circling around Hux as the other complied. “Good. Good.”

 

Hux shivered against his will, upper body exposed as Kylo's hands caressed his sides, fingers dancing along his ribs in a slow waltz. Kylo wrapped a rather large hand around his throat, tilting Hux's head to the side as he attacked the exposed portion of his neck with strong, blunt teeth. Hux cried out, jerking forward as Kylo reeled him back, tightening his grip.

 

“You don't get to say when, General. I do.”

 

Hux fought out of instinct, out of everything he knew and was taught. Kylo didn't need to touch him, to _feel_ him all over, Hux knew this full well, knew that Kylo must have enjoyed the feeling of him. Hux sighed as Kylo slid the palm of his hand down the length of his chest, past his abdomen until it reached the belt of his slacks.

 

“I admire your commitment to getting fully dressed,” he breathed, fingers working Hux's belt off. “Honestly, it makes this all the more enjoyable for me.”

 

“I was working with the opposite intent in mind, Ren, but all's well that ends well, I suppose.”

 

Hux cried out as Kylo placed a rather vicious bite to his right shoulder, drawing a fair amount of blood. “Speaking out of turn will get you no where, General,” he warned.

 

“I respectfully disagree,” he said through clenched teeth, still feeling the bite placed to his shoulder in waves.

 

Kylo's breath warmed the back of his neck as he laughed, snapping Hux's belt off in one, rough movement. “Respectfully?” he huffed, pushing Hux forward until he landed stomach first onto his bed. The sheets were black silk, elaborate and not at all surprising.

 

Hux rolled over onto his back, Kylo kneeling in between his legs as he ran a thumb across his bottom lip. “About as respectful as you are to me at any given moment,” he answered, biting the imposing digit.

 

Kylo smiled, a light touching his eyes Hux had never seen before. The feeling it brought was complicated, and Hux chose not to delve deeper than the surface. Instead, he studied the scar that traversed across Kylo's face, adding a touch of character and time to what would otherwise be a boyish set of features. Kylo grimaced, and Hux felt the desire to kiss him then, and so he did, but he lied to himself eagerly about why he did so. This was a means to escape, not reflect.

 

Kylo attacked his mouth with vigor, using the opportunity to consume him; to use him in much the same manner Hux was. A mutual relationship that would benefit their respective needs and desires. Hux's desire for control, and Kylo's need to destroy. The thing that neither mentioned was that Hux's desire for control related to the things he was most afraid of losing, and Kylo's need to destroy related to the things he most loved. These would be things that neither would find in the other until it was all too late.

 

Not every story was meant to end happily ever after.

 

Hux could feel various parts of his body begin to bruise as Kylo pinned him down, constraining any movement not permitted as he did whatever he pleased to him. Which, Hux was thrilled to find out, involved a fair amount of sucking and biting at various junctions. “I _will_ ruin you,” he promised, nipping Hux's hip.

 

“I look forward to it,” Hux said, a soft sigh ghosting across his lips as Kylo bit down harder.

 

“You say that now.”

 

“And I mean it,” and he did.

 

The sense of anger and pure desperation the two felt poured forth, every touch and kiss, every bite and gripping of flesh becoming more and more frenzied. Hux wanted the feel of Kylo's exceptionally strong thighs beneath his palms, but every time he reached, he was denied, and the act only served to arouse him further. Hux loathed telekinesis in any other predicament, but he was beginning to form a positive opinion for what it could offer in the bedroom. Kylo didn't need his hands to restrain him, though he seemed to prefer it, but when necessary, he could control Hux's body with little more than the creativity of his thoughts. This excited Hux in ways he didn't know possible, arms above his head as Kylo captured his mouth in another kiss, more delicate as his hands shoved Hux's briefs down and around his thighs, leaving him naked and exposed before his eyes.

 

Kylo appeared satisfied to simply take in the sight, leaving Hux feeling unbalanced and impatient. The writhing of his hips captivated Kylo's gaze as he stood to his feet, making a display of removing his pants in a slow, rhythmic motion. “I'll be old and dead before you get back to me,” he muttered under his breath, struggling against the invisible bonds set around his wrists as Kylo chuckled, unmoved by his plight.

 

“You love it.”

 

He did, but he would never say so out loud.

 

“We can be done here if you feel you can go no further,” he argued, eyes hungry and consumed wholly with lust. It was a vain threat, and they both knew it.

 

In an instant Kylo was on him, all over every inch of him, stealing as much as he could from him...as much as Hux could give. Their bodies pressed together, the realization that Kylo was just as hard, just as aroused as him made Hux desperate and yearning, struggling even though he had no desire to be free of his torture. Kylo kissed every sensitive part, grinding up against him as he began to lose control, emotional in his want. Needing. Fucking.

 

_Yes_.

 

Hux was flipped over onto his stomach, arms still pinned above his head, back arched as his body was put on full display. Kylo laid over him, kissing and biting a trail down Hux's back, fingers trailing down a tingling spine, playing against the supple flesh of his ass. He was going to fuck him raw, Hux knew, and he couldn't wait. Saliva coated fingers worked their way inside him, breathing irregular as Hux pulled and pushed against the intrusion. Adding a third finger made him groan into the pillow before him, biting the cover as he attempted to silence himself.

 

Kylo was not at all satisfied with this, pulling Hux's by his hair until his face was exposed to the area around him. “You're not going to hide what it is I'm doing to you, do you understand?” he said, words hot and heavy against Hux's ear. A loud smack echoed as Kylo struck a searing blow to Hux's left ass cheek, sending him forward with a loud, resounding moan. _'Do you understand?'_

 

Hux felt himself break, his last resolve giving way as Kylo moved his fingers relentlessly inside him, ordering him to answer under the most dire of situations. “ _Yes_ ,” he gritted through clenched teeth, eyes closed off to the world around him, lost in the sensations Kylo caused him. _'Yes, sir.'_

 

Kylo removed his fingers, and Hux mourned their loss until they were replaced with what he had most desired from the beginning. Kylo couldn't resist the opportunity to toy with him; however, sliding his cock in between his clenched thighs, sending wave after wave of longing Hux could no longer stand throughout his body. After another mumbled plea fell from his bruised lips Kylo finally relented, pressing into him as he bit down along the back of Hux's neck, taking him like an animal in heat, keeping him in place as he gladly used him. And he did _use_ him. Thoroughly.

 

Kylo kept a tight hold on him, pulling the short strands of Hux's hair that he had disheveled, turning his head at a painful angle so that their mouths fastened together before breaking apart with a low grunt or fevered moan. Hux wanted to move, wanted to push back, have Kylo take him as he deemed, but he couldn't; the knowledge of which made him that much harder as he was consumed whole. Kylo pounded into him with a relentless pace, bending Hux's body and will as he pleased, but his kisses were tender...warm and caring. Hux didn't understand it, didn't _want_ to understand it, but found himself surrendering to Kylo's kisses as they broke him in more ways than his body ever could. Hux could sense what was truly in him then.

 

The light.

 

The internal struggle he was trying so fiercely to get away from. Hux gasped, fingers gripping the sheets as Kylo snapped his hips in a deep, upward thrust hitting his prostate head on, remembering that the other could read him. “You'll never know what I'm truly thinking,” he breathed, thrusting into him with another short, hard thrust.

 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Hux cried out, wondering what he had gotten himself into.

 

“ _Never_ ,” he whispered, kissing Hux as the other was helpless but to kiss back.

 

The invisible chains that bound him broke, arms free if but a little numb. Kylo was losing control, losing himself in the act. When Hux rocked his hips back, he was rewarded with another savage bite to his opposite shoulder. Hux wanted to be touched, needed to be touched, but knew he would be punished if he were to do so himself. The idea lingered at the forefront of his mind as Kylo took on a quicker pace, large hands bruising Hux's hips, fingers digging in deep.

 

“Beg for it,” he said, at last, lips pressed against the delicate shell of Hux's ear. “ _Beg_. For it.”

 

Hux shook his head, lids closed tight as Kylo's hand wrapped itself over his throat, fingers crushing down upon his larynx. “No,” he croaked, his inability to breathe became more apparent as he gasped and gulped for breath that was denied to him each time. Hux wondered idly if Kylo would kill him then, and then he wondered if he cared at all about dying.

 

“Killing you would be too easy,” Kylo said, loosening his hold upon Hux's throat as the other heaved for oxygen.

 

“That's a shame,” Hux retorted, still fighting the notion that he would have to beg to get what he wanted, choosing instead to incur Kylo's wrath to boil over as he touched himself without permission to do so.

 

The grip on his wrist was as sudden as it was bone crushing, causing Hux to groan out in pain as Kylo dragged the offending limb behind his back, holding it there for his offense. “Try it again, and I stop,” he warned, kissing and biting the side of Hux's neck as he did so.

 

Hux groaned again, this time out of pleasure as Kylo titled his hips, the pressure on his prostate inescapable. “Snoke is just using you,” he gasped, eyes sealed shut as his mind and heart wedged open. “He's just using you.”

 

Kylo took him in hand then, his strokes slow and leisurely but held with the same pressure behind it. “He's using us both,” he muttered, focused once again as Hux began to unravel.

 

The two were never balanced.

 

Hux felt his orgasm building, knew that at any moment it would crash over him and he would regret every word, thought and action committed. “I know that,” he moaned, thoughts cloudy, body tensing. “But he's going to use all of you...he's not going to be content until you are completely _forsaken_ , Ren. He'll use you until there's nothing left, until there's something better...”

 

“Like the girl?” Kylo asked, voice low as he gave one last tug of teeth to the lobe of Hux's ear just as he came, spilling over his hand.

 

“ _Yes_ ,” he whispered, body thrumming, burning as Kylo still rocked in and out of him. It wasn't as rough, and it didn't need to be. Hux had gotten off, and now Kylo was content to finish in his own way. A softer, more intimate way that made Hux's skin crawl. “Yes.”

 

There would be no end to this, he realized that.

 

“I'm counting on it,” Kylo responded, pulling out as he flipped Hux over, pressing back into his body, Hux's knees slung across either hip.

 

Hux felt much more exposed in this position, though he fought vehemently to guard that information from Kylo's ever probing mind. Hux wasn't sure what would push Kylo over the edge, and he was curious if the other would allow him to find out. An idea came to him then to run his hands down along Kylo's back, never breaking eye contact before dragging them up; short, blunt nails drawing raised, irritated scratches up that produced little blood but a full blown shudder and stutter of breath. Hux grinned in a wicked manner, kissing Kylo before he could kiss him, earning a grunt from the other man in response.

 

“You're being disrespectful, General,” he drawled, eyes bearing down at him as their bodies began to move as though it were an unconscious habit for them both.

 

Hux leaned up, biting Kylo's chin before he said, “I've learned from the best.”

 

Kylo's lids fluttered shut at the bite, and Hux wondered if being bit extended its hand to his pleasure as well. He let his teeth make a trail from Kylo's chin to the meeting of his collarbones, a soft groan sounding from him. Hux grinned, licking and biting a path along his chest as Kylo threaded his fingers through his hair once more, this time to hold on to instead of controlling him. When his tongue took an exploratory swipe across one of his nipples, Kylo tensed, rearing back as Hux yanked him forward, biting the tender flesh as he cried out. Hux brought him down over top of him, legs wrapped securely around his waist as Kylo's thrusts grew more off kilter, intent on exploiting this newly found weakness.

 

“Nothing to say, Ren?” he asked, voice low and teasing as the other could respond with nothing more but a low, throaty whine. “Didn't think so.”

 

Hux assaulted the sensitive skin in much the same manner for as long as Kylo could stand it, and then some. When he came, neither made an attempt to move at first, tiredness settling into their bones though they both claimed otherwise. Silence outstretched before them, comfortable in its own oddity. It wouldn't last, of course. Nothing ever did, but for the time being, both held their tongues.

 

Hux with his eyes fixed up at the ceiling, and Kylo with his set upon Hux.

 

Control?

 

Who needed a silly thing like that when one could rule happily in a beautiful wasteland full of lawlessness? Apparently, Hux thought, taking a tentative glance at the man beside him, he didn't. A hypergiant taking its rightful place in the endless depths of space, fused of lost particles reeling together as not to be alone, preparing to burn brighter than all else around it for a short period of time before burning out entirely. Never to be replicated.

 

“You're heads a mess,” Kylo said, a crooked grin to his face.

 

“You're everything is a mess,” Hux shot back, no malice to be found. He would blame it on his worn out limbs later on.

 

Kylo huffed a laugh, raking his fingers through his hair. “That's completely true at the moment.”

 

Hux studied him then, and wondered, not for the first time or the last, just how the once promising Jedi had come to be here. And, for the first time but not for the last, Hux felt something akin to guilt rise up. He wasn't used to thinking of others, everyone and everything else was merely a tool to utilize or a broken trinket needing to be tossed out, but maybe...

 

“Don't,” Kylo said, gripping him by the chin as he placed a chaste kiss to Hux's lips, shattering his thoughts. “It's already too late for me. It's too late.”

 

Ben Solo was dead, and while Hux had never known him, he seemed to mourn the glimpses of an over charismatic kid with depth to reckless dark eyes and a smug grin. “Yes, it is,” he added, resuming his furtive glance at the ceiling above. “For the both of us.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
  
  


 


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